Black Painting
by Shirasaka Konoe
Summary: Is hope too much for him to handle? Human!Bunny/Pitch. Alternate chapter updated. AU, yaoi. Proceed with caution.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Black Painting

**Summary:** Is hope too much for him?

**Pairing:** Human!Bunnymund/Pitch

**Rate:** T?

**Disclaimer:** I own nothin'~! But, well, if you insist, I'll gladly accept Jack and Bunny and Pitch to be my property. No? Okay. Still own nothing.

**Pointless Rambling:** I'm kinda obsessed with this pairing lately. Is that weird? And, this is a try of making my favorite characters into my favorite story (Shinigami Ballad). Is it a plagiarism? If yes, tell me, if not, tell me.

Well, I hope no one is going to sue me for this *crosses fingers*.

Enjoy! :D

* * *

Ethan Aster-Bunnymund Langley must feel satisfied with this years' painting contest result. He only got the second place, even after all his nights of hard working. Sighing in defeat, he walked around the gallery and stared enviously to the painting that beat his.

'Caging Shadows' by Clifford Black.

It was good, actually, if it wasn't for that overexploiting of the dark colors. There was a picture of a dying creature—resembling a bird but he wasn't so sure—inside a big, black cage that was hanging on chain that was attached to the sky. The creatures had a scary feature; eyes were red with long black and gray feathers covering its body, and something that looked like the (illustration of) mixture of transparent torn scarf, shadows and smoke emerging from the form. The sky wasn't like that of a cloudy day, but more like it was gray from too much shadows mixing with it. There was a bit of dark blue on the clouds, but even more of dark gray. When he was concentrating enough, he could see that the creature was a boy with feathered cloak. His skin was almost white, if it wasn't for the light hue of another gray, and he was curling under the little protection from the cloak.

Well… it might be appropriate if this picture won the first place… no!

He scoffed and walked away, but stopped when he crashed to someone in mid-turn, resulting the black haired man to fall down on the floor. "Oops, I'm sorry. Are ya alright, mate?" he asked while offering his hand to help the man to get up.

"Yes, I'm fine. My bottom will be hurt for some time later, but otherwise, I'm fine," the man answered flatly in his thick British, taking the hand in front of his face.

"I'm sorry…"

"I was… joking."

"Oh."

There was an awkward silence between the two before he offered to take a quick tour around the gallery with him. The man nodded at that, saying that he was a bit unfamiliar with the place.

Aster took the man around and unavoidably reached his painting.

"This painting here… it's as if the artist was saying 'I'll paint every color on my palette to this canvas'. There's just too much color," the man said, disapproving every color on it. It ticked off Aster quite fast.

'I'm the painter, you bloody blabbermouth,' Aster thought begrudgingly.

"And thus, I don't like this painting. It just doesn't deserve to be on the first place, so I'd say the judges are wise," the man said with a flat tone, but it was enough to make Aster snapped.

"So what? I'm the artist," he said, already feeling victorious over the fact that the man flinched a little at that. 'Ha! Take that. Now what will ya say?'

"Well… Langley—"

"Aster's fine," he cut off.

"Alright, Aster. First, I don't like being cut off. And second, knowing you are the person who made this painting won't stop me from hating it."

Maybe his face was currently radiating that 'say what?' look over the person in front of him. "Listen 'ere. Who'dya think ya are? If you can make something bettah than my painting, then go ahead and say that," he snapped.

The man sneered at that. "Well, I already did," he replied calmly, and if possible, amusedly. He turned away from the dumfounded Aster before turning on his heels once more and added with a slight smirk on his face, "Oh, and I am Clifford Pitchiner Black, in case you really meant what you asked. Or was it only a saying?" before walking away and didn't turn back anymore.

Clifford Pitchiner Black… it sounded familiar…

Oh, for the love of the moon.

Clifford Pitchiner Black.

Clifford Black.

Clifford freaking Black.

He was the winner of the contest!

Wait… so, the mature-looking guy who was completely looking down on him was actually the same age as him? Eighteen years old?

He so couldn't live with that.

* * *

The second time Aster met with Clifford Black was when he was going to a supermarket for supplies. Only this time, the he wore a pair of glasses. The gold-tinted silvery gray eyes caught him staring. "Oh, good afternoon, Aster," Clifford greeted so sickeningly sweet.

"Not so good now that I met ya."

The other laughed. "Says the man who got caught staring at me."

Aster groaned in annoyance. "You're blockin' the carrots. Move away, bloke."

With another laugh, Clifford moved away and turned to leave. Then he remembered something. "Hey, Aster. You can call me Pitch if you want to."

"Wha?"

"It's a nickname my family members call me with, but you can call me that. It's a syllable shorter than Clifford."

Without further ado, he left, leaving a confused Aster behind.

* * *

The third time was when Aster was helping his friend with moving. Jack was moving to a new flat and the petite teen asked him personally (with a threat) for his help. How could he say no?

Then he found out that Clifford—no, Pitch lived just above Jack's room. When he met the gray eyed teen, he was carrying two paper bag filled with vegetables, meat, bread, milk and some other things. Pitch almost couldn't see the way, so Aster helped him, not having the heart to just let him be.

"Why, thank you very much, Aster," Pitch actually thanked him.

"No problems."

Then Pitch invited him for some tea and he couldn't resist because Jack was eager to get closer to a neighbor. So, yes, he went to Pitch's room with Jack to have some tea. But Jack remembered that his sister, Tooth, would be coming by the evening, so he decided to go back and tidy up his room so his sister wouldn't have to nag him about it.

He was left alone in the room of his rival. A rival who looked down upon him, on top of that. He looked around him. The room was simple. Luxurious, but simple. The wall was decorated with black wallpaper with rich golden leaves pattern. The floor was white and clean, while the ceiling was broken white with golden platform. There was a square, black, glass table in the center of the living room where he was currently sitting at. The table was surrounded by four comfy light gray armchairs. There wasn't much furniture inside the room aside from those.

"Do you care for a refill?" a voice roused him from his looking-around.

"Yes, please," he answered while watching his cup being filled with the still steaming hot milk tea. "Ya don't wear your glasses."

"I've bought a new pair of contact lenses."

"You lost one before?"

"Yes, after going out from the gallery, if I'm not mistaken."

"Serves ya right."

There was no reply, only a little chuckle.

"D'ya drink milk tea often?" he asked out of nowhere because he just didn't want the conversation stopping because Pitch didn't seem to be the talkative type. And he hated silence.

With a smile, Pitch said, "No, but I thought that your friend would like it, so I made it."

"What d'ya usually drink, then?"

"Oh, Aster. I'm flattered that you are actually interested in me, but I'm afraid you will have to take me on a date before getting so… intimate," the last word was chosen so thoughtfully.

If Aster was poor mannered, he would've thrown the content of his cup to the smirking pale teen in front of him. Too bad he wasn't. And he regret of being so.

"I was only joking. Why does everyone seem to take what I say so seriously?" he rolled his eyes in amusement at the silver gray haired teen's reaction.

"It's yer expression, I tell ya. Yer expression makes it sounds so serious!"

Pitch laughed at that.

And for the first time in his whole time of knowing this British bloke, as he called him, Aster thought that his smile was indeed beautiful.

* * *

The fourth time was when he decided to pay Jack a visit. In his way out, he crashed to the British, who later invited him for a tea again.

He certainly glad he did because it was the second where it all went wrong.

Pitch was bringing over a pot of tea to the living room when he seemed to be losing balance. He even had to use the wall to prevent himself from falling. Aster asked if he was okay and was standing to help, but the other said that he was fine.

Pitch was certainly not. When he walked over to the table, he looked hurt and he was clutching his chest and he looked like he couldn't breathe and then he just fell on the floor. The tea was spilt and the white ceramic was smashed to pieces when colliding with the floor.

"Pitch!" Aster called as he shook the other to wake up, but Pitch was unresponsive.

In horror, he called the ambulance.

* * *

**End of Chapter 1**

* * *

So, yea. I've wanted to make this for some time now. Do you like it? Do you hate it? Which part do you think still needs improvement? Please review~!

Love and milk and cookies  
Shirasaka Konoe (And, yea, I'm using 'Last Name-First Name' for my pen name, it should be 'Konoe Shirasaka' in English. Just in case you're wondering)


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Black Painting

**Summary:** Is hope too much for him?

**Pairing:** Human!Bunnymund/Pitch

**Rate:** T?

**Disclaimer:** I own nothin'~! But, well, if you insist, I'll gladly accept Jack and Bunny and Pitch to be my property. No? Okay. Still own nothing.

**Pointless Rambling:** Yesh! Chapter two! Woo-hoo! *Slapped for being too loud* Teehee.

Well, this is the second chapter, and I'm still kinda thinking (wow, never knew I could do that) if I should just put an alternate chapter for the happy ending 'cuz… well, I just don't like if I end up killing a character or two in my story (but I still do it anyway). If you have an opinion, please do tell.

And thank you so much for those who review and fave this story. You guys are just the best in keeping me writing! XD

Then, without further ado, enjoy~! :D

* * *

"How is he?" Aster asked as soon as the doctor came out of the room.

"He is fine. Probably just forgot to take his medicine," the blonde doctor said as he scribbled down something on his note.

"Fine? Ya called that fine?! He was hurtin' on his chest when he fell down and he was suffocatin' and you said he's fine?!"

The doctor coughed and reminded him that they were in hospital and there were a lot of sick people who needed rest and peace. "I know that you are worried. But, rest assured, he is fine because I've seen him vomiting blood before."

"Wha?" he asked, confusion starting to take over his mind.

The doctor looked equally confused. "I thought you know."

"What're ya talkin' 'bout?"

Coughing some more, the blonde said; "Why don't you just talk directly to him? He's awake now."

Aster nodded and walked inside the room. There was Pitch with hospital attire white and clean, resting on the white sheeted bed with light tosca blanket covering his body and there was a lot of tube with fluids inside them hanging on the hanger beside the bed, attached to his pale white skin with slim, clear hoses with needles on the end which pierced through places on his skin.

"How're you feelin', mate?" Aster asked concernedly.

"Much better, I think," Pitch answered. He didn't look like his usual self; instead he looked so sick and so little.

"The doctor said you're fine, but I don't think—"

"I'm fine, Aster."

"But ya were…"

"It's alright."

"Tell me what I don't know 'bout ya. And, no, it's not a saying. I mean it."

With a sigh, Pitch motioned him to sit next to the bed. "What do you see?" he asked when Aster had taken a seat, pointing at the heart monitor.

"I don't understand. The graphic isn't stable."

"Exactly. My heart isn't functioning normally. It rather beats too hard or too soft."

Aster nodded.

"Not just my heart. My organs are weak and they're not functioning as well as they should be."

"But, that means you're not fine."

"I'm fine, compared to my condition in some other time. And considering that I had actually passed the life expectation the doctors had, I'd say I'm great."

"Life expectation?"

"They said that I should be grateful if I even reached my sixteenth birthday. But, look at me. I'm eighteen and I'm still here."

"I didn't know…"

With a sickly smile, Pitch replied, "You're not supposed to." There was quietness filling the atmosphere for a while. Then Pitch broke it. "I'm sorry about the awful things I said about your painting."

Aster shrugged. "Nah, it's fine, mate."

But Pitch shook his head. "No, it's not. It was really a good art, I was just… I knew you were the one who made it, and I was afraid I would get close to you, so I said it to make you pissed off and keep a distance at me, but then I found myself get drawn to you… and… I don't know… maybe the only thing I hate about that picture is that it's filled with so many colors almost like… hope. I hate it."

"Why? You hate hope?"

"Maybe because I just want to live longer. I hate to have hope. It makes me happy, but it turns out fake."

Aster scoffed at that. "Ya were hopin' to get better?"

"Yes."

"So, there's no wrong in hopin'. Jack was leukemic when he was ten and he turns out fine now. I have a friend who used to have brain cancer, but he is living well now. My liver wasn't healthy at all when I was a kid, but after I got a donor, I'm fine. So, why can't ya hope?"

A sound of bell ringing filled the room. "The visiting time is over," Pitch reminded.

With a last smile, Aster waved his hand to the sick teen on the bed. "Just, don't stop hopin'. I'm sure there'll be way."

* * *

Pitch was staring blankly at the white ceiling of his room. The blonde doctor was taking note of every little detail about his condition.

"Hey, Dr. Sanderson," he called.

"Yes, Clifford?"

"Do you think there is any even little possibility that I can be cured?" he asked, now staring to the doctor's warm hazel eyes.

With a sad face, the doctor stroked his head soothingly. "I'm afraid not. Especially if you keep on skipping you meds."

"But I don't like taking them."

"Why? It keeps you alive longer."

His brows were furrowed. "They taste bitter, and they often stuck in my throat, and I hate to see the colors, and no matter how routine or even obidient I am to take them, I still won't have the chance to be cured. So, why bother?" he asked, voice was quivering.

"Like I said, it keeps you live longer."

"Like how long? Two months? Two weeks? It's the same even if I die now. I won't get the chance to see the world anyway!"

"Pitch…"

"Are you done checking my condition? If yes, then please leave. I'd like to get some sleep," he said later, flopping down om the bed and turned his back to the doctor.

The blonde only sighed and walked away. He knew from the tremble on his patient's shoulder that he wasn't supposed to see the other cried.

* * *

"Oi, how're you feelin' today?" Aster came with a smile, hoping to bring some cheer into the gloomy room. But Pitch's reaction was shocking.

"Get out, Aster. I don't want to talk to you."

"Pitch?"

"Please? Just get out and stop giving me false hope."

"What happened?"

"The doctor said that there is no way I can be cured. So, stop telling me to hope for it. I'm sick," Pitch said, tears were starting to form at the corners of his eyes.

Instead of walking out from the room, Aster came closer and wrapped his arms around Pitch while occasionally caressed his head.

The black haired teen cried and clutched his hands so tightly on Aster's shirt, his body trembling greatly from the soft sobs and sniffles he let out. "I'm afraid, Aster. I'm afraid of dying, more that I've ever been before."

"Why?"

"Before, I thought I would just die alone, leaving no one I care behind… but then I remember that I have my parents, I have my sister. Still, I think I would only leave them, so I don't really care. But, I've been keeping distance from you, yet I'm attached. I'm scared of dying now that I've… come to like you…" the last part was like the last time they had a tea together; chosen so carefully. Maybe it was because Pitch didn't want to risk it. What if Aster didn't like him back and feeling grateful that he was dying instead?

"You're not afraid of dyin'… you're just afraid ya'll never see me again."

"Is that so?" Pitch asked with a trembling voice, but relief was somehow clear in it.

"Yea. And that's why… I think I'd like to spend some days with ya. Until ya get bored of seein' my face. And then, ya can die peacefully." A laugh broke between the sobs. "How's that sound?"

"So insanely wonderful, Aster. I like the sound of it."

* * *

_He was on the way to Pitch's room when someone called him._

_"Oh, Aster. Have you met them? This is Eleanor, Clifford's sister, Lily, his mother, and Henry, his father," the blonde doctor, Sanderson, introduced him to Pitch's family who came a long way from London to meet Pitch._

_"Nice ta meet ya," he said._

_"So you are Aster. Pitch has been talking about lately," Eleanor said with a weak smile._

_Her mother wasn't smiling at all, she was crying. He was concerned and also curious why the woman wasn't stopping at all. "Oh, Pitch said about wanting to live longer, and she's been like this ever since," the black haired young woman, maybe not far from twenty one, answered the unspoken question._

_"Oh…"_

_"Well, we'd better head out. If you will excuse us, Dr. Sanderson, Aster."_

_"Yes. Be careful on yer way."_

_"Thank you."_

_When the family left, Aster walked inside the room with a smile in hope to lighten up the mood._

* * *

He was coming home from the supermarket when he met with Mrs. Black. "Good afternoon, Ma'am," he greeted.

"Aster isn't it?" the woman replied him. Her eyes were red, probably from the crying yesterday. "I'm sorry I haven't properly talked with you. I was just… sad about yesterday."

"Nah, it's okay, Ma'am."

"Lily is fine."

Aster nodded. Then he spent time with the middle-aged woman on the park near the supermarket.

"I'm really a bad mother, aren't I?" she said after she talked about how she used to want Pitch to just die already because she couldn't watch him suffer and she didn't want to have too much memory of him because she was afraid they would make her sad when he was gone.

"No. Every mother has their own way to express their love."

"But I want him to die sooner."

"If his sickness could be cured, what would ya wish?"

"I'd wish for him to get better soon."

"But ya know there is no hope, so ya don't want him to suffer much. That's enough of a love, I'd say."

Lily laughed bitterly. "It's getting dark. Maybe we should go home?" she said with a warm smile.

"Ah, right. Mmh… Lily, I'd like to say somethin' first."

"Yes?"

"I think I'm in love with yer son."

"And?"

"I thought that maybe I can spend time with him before he gets worst… so, I'm askin' yer permission ta—"

"Take him and see around? Please, do so," the woman answered before he even got the chance to finish.

"But, it might be bad for his health…"

"Well, two days of seeing something he's never seen is better that spending two months in hospital and getting worst without knowing how beautiful this town is. That's what you're thinking, right, Aster?"

"More or less so."

"Then you have my permission."

With a smile, he leaped away home after saying goodbye to the woman.

* * *

**End of Chapter 2**

* * *

Well, I hope this didn't come out as bad as I think it is. *crosses fingers*

Please tell me if I should change anything in the story, and please tell me if I should or should not write an alternate chapter.

See you next time then~!

Love and peace and yoghurt  
Shirasaka Konoe


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Black Painting, Chapter 3

**Summary:** Is hope too much for him?

**Pairing:** Human!Bunnymund/Pitch

**Rate:** T?

**Disclaimer:** I own nothin'~! But, well, if you insist, I'll gladly accept Jack and Bunny and Pitch to be my property. No? Okay. Still own nothing.

**Pointless Rambling:** Here comes the end. And, I kinda hate myself for killing Pitch in this story, so I might just put the extra chapter of happy ending.

Is that good?

Anyway, enjoy! :D

* * *

"'Ey, Pitch, it's snowin' outside. Do ya want ta see it?"

Nodding, he stepped out from his bed. Dr. Sanderson helped him taking off the annoying hoses and also helped him changing his hospital attire to a plain black long-sleeved shirt and black sweater along with casual jeans.

They walked to the parking lot where Aster's gray Ford was waiting.

It was freezing outside, was what Pitch thought the seconds they left the hospital. It wasn't warm like his room or his flat. But still, it was pleasant.

Aster drove them somewhere and they stopped by an old park. It was still well maintained, but there was hardly anyone because of the newly opened park near the town center. They sat on the cap of Aster's car.

"This is my first time seeing snow and actually touch it," Pitch admitted shyly.

"Seriously?"

"Yes," he said, "My body can't stand extreme temperature, so I rarely stepped out from my home."

"Are ya okay now?"

Pitch smiled. "You are enough to keep me warm," he said while snuggling closer to Aster.

He might've been blushing because he felt heat creeping to his cheeks. Collecting all the courage he had, he slipped his hand to hold Pitch's. There was no protest coming from the other, so he kept stayed in that position, enjoying every second of it.

A cough escaped Pitch's lips and it was the cue to be going back home. "Let's go back," Aster said.

Pitch wanted to argue, but he couldn't make Aster even more worried that he already was. So he kept his protest to himself when Aster let go of his hand to help him get down from his seat. "Okay," he replied.

* * *

The next day too, Aster took him somewhere. This time, they drove to and old church. It was almost dark and only some people walked around the avenue, rushing to be home so they could be warming themselves up and reuniting with their families.

Pitch admired the building inside and outside. He liked how the candles were lit and illuminated the entire room and he liked how the lamps outside were placed in the right places to make the garden looked warm even in the winter scenery.

They sat on the car again. And Aster didn't know what struck him, but he found himself was holding Pitch's face in his hands and pressed his lips on the other's thin ones. They were cold from the air, but warming up slowly in the kiss. And that was where the kiss started to heat up.

Aster pushed his tongue on Pitch's lips and they parted immediately, granting him the access to the warmer inside. Their tongues collided with each other's and after what felt like eternity, Pitch gasped from lack of air.

"That was… amazing…" he pant out.

"Really? I thought ya woulda kissed someone great before."

"Oh, no. That was my first kiss," Pitch replied, almost regaining his breath. He leaned to Aster's hand when it cupped his face.

"So, can I have yer second?" Aster asked, staring into his eyes lovingly.

"Why, yes of course you can," Pitch answered and they were soon kissing.

"And, how 'bout yer third?" Aster asked again after they regained their breath.

"Aster, yes, you can have my third, my fourth, fifth and so on," was the reply.

After many kisses shared between them, they just sat and talked about things before Pitch fell silent all of sudden and Aster called his name in horror just to find that Pitch had fallen asleep, but was awaked because he called. "What's wrong, Aster?" he asked sleepily.

"No. It's just… never mind. Let's go back, yea?"

Pitch didn't protest again this time when Aster untangled his arms from him.

* * *

The third day was the sea. The sky wasn't clear with the clouds covering but there was a gap wide enough for the moon to shine proudly above the waters and poured them with moonlight. They parked on the empty wharf and sat on the same spot as the previous days.

Aster kissed Pitch lovingly on the lips and wrapped his arms around the lithe body and they just enjoyed the night.

A cough escaped Pitch's lips again and Aster quickly untangled his arms before he was soon pulled back to his seat.

"Just stay like this," Pitch pleaded.

He was worried, but he complied. He sat back and listened to Pitch's steady breathing. Pitch talked about things he had said yesterday, mostly just to keep the silence away. Then Pitch didn't say anything and he thought that the other was sleeping again. Just like yesterday.

"Pitch?" he called.

Only this time, there was no answer.

* * *

Aster walked into the hospital with Pitch in his arms.

The body was cold and it didn't move anymore. The heart had stopped.

Dr. Sanderson was called, along with another doctor who immediately screamed at Aster asking what he had done that Pitch was now dead.

But the Blacks came in time. Henry told the doctor that they were fine with that, Eleanor cried but she smiled and stroked her brother's black strands. Lily didn't cry this time.

"It's really okay, doctor," she said. "He looks so happy."

* * *

After the funeral, Lily wished to talk to him.

And she thanked him. "Thank you," she said with a smile.

"What is it for?"

"Well, my biggest fear is that Pitch would never meet someone, but he met you. So… thank you." And she walked away.

Jack came over to him. "I'm sad that he's gone," he said.

"Why?"

"Well, he was a very good person. He taught me how to make good chocolate cakes too."

Aster smiled at pouting Jack.

"Oh, I just remember now. He told me to tell you just in case he couldn't that he usually drank milk tea in the morning and black tea with six cubes of sugar in the evening. Don't know why he told me to, but you've got your message."

With a laugh, Aster ruffled Jack white hair. "I think I remember why," he said before turning away and walked to his car with Jack.

"What's that? A canvas?" Jack asked when he saw something wrapped in white linen was laying nicely on the back passenger's seats in Aster's car.

"No. It's a little reminder of how I met 'im," he answered.

"Oh, a painting, huh? What is it called?"

With a smile, Aster looked at his friend and the words slipped out from his lips oh-so-fondly; "Caging Shadows."

* * *

Three years went by so fast. Aster stood in front of Pitch's grave with a bouquet of fresh lilies. "I don't know what flower ya like. They are fine, ain't they?

He laughed when a breeze blew so softly, bringing the smell of spring, of new hope.

"You're not afraid anymore, right? Ya can still see me even from up there."

He put down the lilies. "Jack made some good cake today," he said while kneeling down and leaned to the cold gravestone. "Ah, ya must've thought that I've forgotten how many kisses we'd had. You're wrong."

He pressed his lips on the name.

"And that's our thirty first kiss. You'd bettah remember too."

Then he got up and turned to leave. A soft wind blew again and Aster turned back fast enough to see a figure of a gold-tinted silver eyed teen with black hair and pale white skin before it was gone.

Smiling to himself, he muttered, "What a nice day."

* * *

**END**

* * *

Err… I don't know what to say because, hell, this is just too sappy. And too many OOCness. And I hate tragedy even though I like writing it. I hate myself! OAO

So, thought?

Love and a bit of desperation  
Shirasaka Konoe


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** Black Painting

**Summary:** Is hope too much for him to handle? And the truth behind the tragedy.

**Pairing:** Human!Bunnymund/Pitch

**Rate:** T?

**Disclaimer:** I own nothin'~! But, well, if you insist, I'll gladly accept Jack and Bunny and Pitch to be my property. No? Okay. Still own nothing.

**Pointless Rambling:** Finally, I've done this chapter~! *is crying tears of joy*

I don't know, even though this didn't turned out as I wanted it, it just made my heart went all lighter. Maybe because this is no tragedy. Well, yeah.

So, do you also have the 'story corner' in your school's paper, or is it only here? Because, I don't really know, and I'm sorry if there's a mismatch with the reality.

Other than that, enjoy~! :D

* * *

With a satisfied smile, Jackson Overland Frost stared at the copy of the newly printed monthly school papers. With a proud sigh, he hugged the book close to his heart. It was until the loud banging of the door with a very red-faced Aster standing by the entrance.

"Oi! What the 'ell 'r ya thinkin'? Ya can't just use someone's name withou' permission! And Ah've nevah given ya tha' permission!"

"Oh, chill out, Ast. It's not like you hate the story," he replied.

"Ah 'ate it!"

Jack shot a hurt look. "You hate my story?" he asked tearfully.

"No, yes… it's—argh! Yes, Ah 'ate it! Why d'ya hafta use mah name?"

The white haired boy pouted when his teary act didn't work. "It's so obvious that you two would make a good couple."

"Ain't the case, Frostbite! An', no! We won't make a goo' couple!"

A knock on the already opened door. They looked at the entrance almost as instantly. "Excuse me… uh… do I interrupt something? Should I just—"

"No, no! Welcome! Come in, and please take a seat, Clifford!" Jack offered the black haired student.

"No, Jack, it's fine here. I just wanted to say that I like your story, but if possible, do you mind stop using real people's name in your future stories?" he asked with a tone that was like making sure the other wouldn't be offended, but his expression was flat.

With a wide annoying grin, Jack nodded. "Thank you," the other said and quickly took off before Jack could stop him. And Jack caught Aster staring at the spot where the black haired student previously stood.

"Aw… someone's got a crush~!" Jack teased rather loudly and it snapped Aster back to reality.

"No, Ah have not!"

"Really? Both of you shot each other googie-eyes at the exhibition!"

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not!"

"Did too."

"Did not!"

"Ditto~!"

"Did—"

"Did to—"

"Shut yer trap!"

And the grin on Jack face only grew wider as the red on Aster's face grew deeper. "Admit it. You've got a crush on him since the day he moved here."

"Shut up."

"And you didn't really mind that he beat you, right?"

Aster's face gave it away as it became softer and softer until only a pout left. "Thought so."

The gray-silver haired teen only rolled his eyes as he made his way out of the editor's room. "We still have a class," he said.

Jack followed with half-running-half-skipping steps. The mischievous grin still on his face, and Aster couldn't help but to wonder if Jack ever felt his face muscles cramped from all the grinning.

* * *

He groaned.

His passion was painting. But for the first time in his life, he felt like taking the art club was a big mistake.

A big mistake he couldn't cover with sticks and leaves, and even with concrete cement.

The British was in it too, and he could feel heat crept up his face every time he found himself staring at the other. And he mentally slapped himself when Clifford caught him staring and smiled at him.

"Now, I want you to make a project," the blonde teacher said with a childish smile on his face, "I don't care what it is, be it sculpture, painting, sketch, whatever. And the best two will be put in the gallery for the next exhibition on fall. And I will only give you two weeks."

"Oooh, I like project," Jack giddily did a fist pump.

"And—this is the best part—I want you to do it with a partner." Students started to chatter at each other to find themselves a partner. "And we decide the partner by taking a ballot. You on my left, write your name in these pieces of paper put it into that box while you on my right will have to pick a name. And no cheating."

"Whaat?" Jack asked in disbelieve. "Oh, come on, Sandy. What if I end up with him?" Jack retorted and shot a look to a bald student wearing a tight shirt and a pair of cargo jeans.

"Shut it, Frost! If someone has the right to say that, it's me!" the student snapped back.

And while Jack and the not-so-important student were throwing each other's names, Aster only wrote down his name and hoped in his mind that he wouldn't be paired with the British bloke who was now smiling at him again after catching him staring for the second time that day.

"Okay, now, get up and take a name," Sanderson said again.

Jack quickly ran and took a name from the box before the other had the chance to. He opened the rolled paper and read it out loud, "Aster."

Unison of disappointed groan was heard as the girls were grieving that they couldn't get either Jack or Aster. Well, at least they could hope for—"I got Jamie Bennett," Clifford said with a slight smile on his face—more reason to groan in disappointment.

Aster sighed in relief. Until Jack ran to Jamie and Clifford with his fake teary eyes. "Please? Can we just swap partners? I want to be with Jamie so, so, soooo bad," he plead to the British.

"Wha—'ey, Jack!" he called. But the fate was being cruel today.

It looked like the black haired student just had a soft spot for fake teary eyes. "You've gotten yourself a fine young man, James," he said with an amused glint on his eyes as he swapped partners with Jack.

Jamie only laughed a bit at that before he too wrapped his arms around the smaller male clinging to him. "Yeah, just my luck," he said after waving a hand to the British.

Again, Aster mentally slapped himself when Clifford smiled to him and said, "So, do you really want to call me 'Pitch' like in your friend's story, or should we just keep it this way?"

"Wha' way?"

"I call you 'Langley' and you call me 'Bla—?"

"'Aster''s fine, and I'll just call ya 'Pitch'," he answered a bit too quickly and also a bit too eager.

It was a bit awkward for Aster. And Jack just had to come and said things like, "Aster and Clifford, sitting on a tree, k-i-s-s—mmph!"

"I'm sorry… I'll just drag him outside, yeah?" Jamie said as soon as he clamped down his hand on Jack's mouth.

Shaking his head, Aster could only sigh. 'Jack, why do you have to go and make thing even more awkward that it already was?' he scolded in his mind.

* * *

So, they ended up sitting in a coffee shop with papers and pencils scattered on the table. "How about using Halloween as the theme? It's for the fall after all," Aster said while sipping his hot chocolate.

"I think it's too… ordinary. And a bit weak. And probably some other team already had the idea since it's easy."

"Right…" he sighed and looked crestfallen.

Pitch stared for a moment before he opened his mouth again. "I'm too demanding, huh?"

"No. Well, yes, but not really, ugh… it's not that I don't like that, ugh. Yes, yer demanding, but… damn it. Yes. Ya are demanding, but it's a good kind of demanding, not the bad kind, and… oh, I'll just shut it."

With a soft laugh, Pitch said, "Oh, don't. I like your accent."

"Really?" Aster was up instantly, "Most people said it's annoyin'. And I had ta get mahself getting' used to not usin' slangs, and it was really hard to do tha' when ya've been already growin' up with it and… uh… I talked too much."

In the end, the concept was still not yet to be decided and they just sat there for hours and talked about things, ordering another cup, and just having a nice conversation. And they finally walked out from the shop and were walking home together since they actually lived only a block away.

"And, yes, he came to my house and had to stay overnight just to ask those questions. I think he will make a very good author."

"Yea, that's just how Jack is; always the serious one in takin' his work. If only he could do tha' in his study."

A sound of laughter.

"So… there is something that caught my interest when he talked to me, though."

"Wha' is it?"

"Jack said that you had a crush on me."

Aster almost choked on his own breath. "No, I don't!" he snapped with red face. "Jack was lyin'! He just really likes ta make fun of me!"

That amused glint again. "That's too bad," he said, head cocked to a side and cheek lazily resting on his shoulder, "I think I might have a crush on you too."

"Yea, that's—wait. You do?"

A sincere nod.

"Oh…that's… uh… heheh… I don't know wha' ta say…"

"Well, say… I don't know. Quote a line or two from Jack's story? It turns out that I'm quite fond of it."

"Uh…"

"Should I do it instead of you?"

"Don't…"

"Then you do it," came out almost like a purr.

"I…"

"Please?" was only as a joke.

Suddenly—and he didn't know where the urge came—he just pressed his lips to Pitch's slightly colder ones. It took the black haired teen by surprise.

They just stood there, lips were pressed against each other's. After what felt like eternity, they pulled apart. Pitch's breathings were more shallow and heavy compared to Aster's.

"Can I have the your second too?"

Pitch averted his gaze. "I… didn't think you would do that…" he said, not looking to Aster. He turned to a broken white colored house. "That's my house… I should just… well…"

Aster stood dumbstruck. He never knew he could do something as stupid as this. He was about to run away and hope the earth would nicely swallow him whole when a pair of lips, warmed from the kiss, pressed onto his. Only a second or so, but it just made his heart felt like it was about to explode.

"There… you have my second."

He almost screamed in joy as the British smiled warmly at him.

"Uh… I'll… see ya when I see ya, then?" he tried so hard not to stutter.

Another laugh. "I was thinking if you want to have a cup of tea, but we've drunk too much already, so… maybe you'll come over for dinner? It gets very lonely when I'm eating alone."

"What're ya makin'?"

"Potato salad, roasted ribs, and chocolate cake for dessert."

"Sounds good."

And they just walked into the warm building, hand in hand.

When his parents was scolding him for not giving them at least a message about him coming home late, Aster just smiled and hugged his mother and said sorry for making them worried. He didn't roll his eyes, or told them that they should stop treating him like a child, or laughed it off saying that there wasn't any reason to be worried.

Besides, the scolding was worth it.

* * *

**END**

* * *

Ta-dah~! I'm done grieving. This turned out more sappy and longer than I intended it to be, but I don't have regret.

There was another idea that I originally wanted to use, but in the end against doing so. I made Jack an author and somewhere between the lines, he just made the story and while Bunny didn't like being 'exploited', Pitch was quite fond of the story, except for the part that he didn't really die and his sickness was not as serious. That was the original plotline, but it just changed so much into this. *shrugs*

Well, mind giving me a review?

Love and chocolate cake,  
Shirasaka Konoe


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